


but now you fall every day

by elizaham8957



Series: Tumblr prompts [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Lydia needs a hug and a friend, Pre Show, and Stiles is trying his best, anyways Jackson is a jerk, background Jydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 03:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12027339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaham8957/pseuds/elizaham8957
Summary: “I’m just… so sick of feeling invisible,” she said, sighing. Her voice was small and lonely.  “Jackson never looks at me. My friends never care about me. Everyone knows who I am, but no one knowsme.”Stiles sat frozen, shocked by her words. It struck him how he still didn’t really know this girl. They’d gone to school together for years; he had been in love with her since the third freaking grade, had always listened and paid attention to her, but he didn’t really know this person beside him at all. He knew she was smart, and he assumed the people that she surrounded herself with were too selfish to be counted on, but it broke his heart to hear howlonelyshe was. Lydia Martin, queen bee of school, felt like she had no one in the world.Stiles wanted to fix that, somehow, but he didn’t have the slightest clue how.





	but now you fall every day

**Author's Note:**

> Another tumblr prompt! This one was "things you said when you were drunk." I don't know how I feel about this one, but I liked the idea. Still not sure if I like how it turned out, but I couldn't get the concept out of my head. 
> 
> If you'd like to request a prompt they're on my tumblr (@stilesssolo) somewhere in my writing tag. I'm the same on twitter if you want to come chat! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

It still felt a little surreal, that they were actually _here._

When Scott had promised that this year was going to be different, Stiles had scoffed at his best friend. Sure, his promises sounded nice on paper, but Stiles didn’t really believe things would somehow magically change. Three months into sophomore year and Stiles had yet to stand corrected— despite the Jeep he drove them both to school in now, or the extra lacrosse practices they had put in, they were still very much the outcasts of Beacon Hills High School.

Not that that particularly bothered Stiles. He had Scott, and that was really all that mattered to him. As long as his best friend was still by his side, he could deal with anything else high school threw at them.

But still— Stiles had really thought this was all going to be some sort of sick joke, some prank Jackson was pulling in his usual douchey manner on the weaker players on the team. An hour into Danny’s pre-season party, though, they had yet to encounter any incidents, and Stiles was even sort of having _fun._ Scott and he never got invited to these types of things— hence, Stiles’s apprehension when Danny had invited them in the first place. Stiles had wanted to skip it altogether, sure there was some joke that they would end up as the punchline of. But despite his shitty taste in best friends, Danny was a pretty good guy, and the excitement in Scott’s eyes at actually being _invited_ to something had forced Stiles to push aside his apprehensions and go to the party with his friend.

Danny did know how to throw a good party, that he had to admit. Stiles had never particularly been a fan of parties— social anxiety, and all that— but this one was more than tolerable, and everyone else seemed to be greatly enjoying themselves. It looked like the whole school was at his house, music thumping and making the walls practically vibrate. Scott and he had spent most of their time here with the other not-so-great lacrosse players, laughing and drinking and having fun, while avoiding Jackson and his clique as much as possible. So far, that was going pretty well— it was clear that the only reason that the rest of the team had been invited was because technically, it was a lacrosse team party, and Jackson seemed to want as little to do with the rest of the team as they did with Jackson.

Stiles was tempting fate, though, by continuously looking over at him. Not that it was Jackson he was interested in— no, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the girl at his side.

“You’re staring again,” Scott informed him, nudging Stiles with his elbow. Stiles turned towards his best friend, away from Jackson and Lydia on the couch, over on the other side of the room. “Stop looking. It’s just gonna make you feel worse.”

Stiles sighed, immediately ignoring his best friend’s advice and turning to look at Lydia again. She was practically in Jackson’s lap, her short dress riding up as she leaned over to whisper something in his ear. His hand rested on her thigh possessively, that smug grin still tugging at his lips as Lydia nudged his ear with her nose, her smile pretty and seductive. Seeing her with Jackson always aggravated the hell out of him, because Stiles _knew_ Jackson didn’t appreciate the incredible girl he was dating as much as she deserved. He didn’t think anyone actually knew how brilliant Lydia was, behind that ditzy popular-girl facade. But Stiles saw the tests she snuck into her bag in Bio and Calculus when she thought no one was looking, and he knew she was so much smarter than everyone gave her credit for.

“Why is she with him?” he asked Scott, voice low, although the question was mainly rhetorical. “He’s such an ass. She can do so much better.”

“It’s like you always say,” Scott replied, sipping from his red solo cup. “Beautiful people flock together. But seriously, Stiles,” Scott continued. “Forget about it. There’s nothing you can do, and you’re just making yourself miserable.”

Grudgingly, Stiles agreed, turning back to the other lacrosse players Scott was talking to— other sophomores who were not as athletically inclined as people like Jackson and Danny. More time passed, and he forgot about Lydia. _Mostly._

He didn’t really remember until much later, on a mission to refill his and Scott’s drinks. Not that Stiles was allowed to drink anymore at this point, because he’d promised to drive Scott home, and if his dad had to leave work to pick them up he’d be grounded for the rest of the year. Danny’s house was enormous, and Stiles had only ever been there once or twice before. He’d had no issue finding another cheap beer for Scott, but water— that was proving more difficult to find.

 _Finally,_ Stiles located the kitchen and the fridge, sighing in relief at the water dispenser on the front door. He put Scott’s beer on the counter, leaning against the fridge as he filled up his cup, staring aimlessly into the adjacent dining room. This area of the house was much more deserted, which was probably the way Danny wanted it. The gleaming wood of the dining room table and the creamy carpet covering the floor looked like it would be easily ruined if the partygoers did wander in.

Which was why he was surprised when he heard approaching footsteps, followed by sharp voices.

It took him about two seconds to recognize Jackson’s voice, because he was using that same condescending, annoyed tone he used on everyone at lacrosse practice. But it was the voice that followed, tearful and distressed, that made Stiles freeze, going silent and slinking to the side of the fridge, remaining out of sight.

“Just shut _up!”_ Jackson snapped, entering the dining room and turning around, facing the doorway. He didn’t notice Stiles, still frozen in the kitchen. “Okay, Lydia? Just drop it!”

“Drop it?” Lydia snapped back, her hands poised on her hips angrily. Even from his spot, Stiles could see the fire in her eyes. “You want me to just _ignore_ the fact that you’re blatantly checking out other girls while I’m with you?”

“Yes,” he replied, tone dangerous, “because it doesn’t mean anything! It’s not a big deal!”

“It is to me, okay?” Lydia retorted. “I’m your girlfriend, and I don’t appreciate— _Jackson!”_ she snapped again, her voice almost desperate as she tried to get his attention. Stiles could hear the distress in her tone; he knew she was trying so hard to maintain that facade, and it was cracking anyways.

“Could you _look_ at me?” she demanded.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Lydia!” he spat.

Lydia huffed, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. “How about _listen_ to me? Treat me like a goddamn human being? I’m not just some _possession_ you can tote around, okay?”

“Are you sure about that?” Jackson retorted, and Stiles wanted nothing more in that moment than to run at Jackson and punch him in the face.

Lydia fell silent, crossing her arms, making herself smaller. When she did speak, her voice had lost its fire, and she sounded on the brink of breaking down.

“You know what, I don’t care. Go screw Abigail, for all I care. I’m so _fucking_ done dealing with you.”

Jackson huffed, stalking out of the dining room, leaving Lydia by herself. She remained frozen, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. Stiles didn’t know what to do— he wanted to comfort her, tell her she deserved better, tell her she was amazing, that she shouldn’t have to put up with Jackson’s bullshit— but still, he couldn’t bring himself to walk forward, paralyzed by nerves or fear or… he didn’t know. His stomach churned and his heart ached for this poor, broken girl in front of him, but still, he couldn’t move.

Lydia unfroze then, uncrossing her arms and shaking her head slightly, like she was trying to forget what had just happened. Stiles watched as she ran a finger under her eye, brushing away a tear, before grabbing the drink she’d set on the table next to her and downing the whole thing in one sip. She tossed the empty cup in the trash can by the door, then stalked out of the dining room, her heels clicking on the wooden floors of the hallway.

Then, Stiles could finally move again.

He went and found Scott, who had begun to worry about where his friend had gone off to, handing him his beer absentmindedly. Stiles’s eyes surfed the crowd, and while he located Jackson, with some blonde freshman girl pressed up against him, he didn’t see Lydia anywhere.

“What is _up_ with you, dude?” Scott said nearly an hour later, tearing Stiles from his routine search of the crowd for a flash of strawberry blonde hair. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, though his attention wasn’t completely on Scott. He caught a glimpse of red hair, a flash of a blue dress that looked like the one Lydia had on across the dance floor, and he finally fully turned to Scott. His best friend was looking at him in concern, his eyes asking a question Stiles desperately did not want to answer.

“I just need some air,” he said quickly, stepping away from the group of lacrosse players. “Uh, I’ll be back.” He just caught a glimpse of the look Scott was giving him before he was off, pushing through the crowd on the dancefloor and following where he thought Lydia had gone.

He ended up in the deserted kitchen again, no sign of Lydia. His eyes must have been playing tricks on him, convincing him he was seeing things he wasn’t. Sighing, he wandered into the dining room, remembering how small and defeated Lydia had looked after Jackson had yelled at her. _Jesus,_ he was such an idiot. Why hadn’t he _done_ anything?

Stiles turned, defeated, to return to Scott in the other room, but through the glass sliding door, something caught his eye.

Lydia was sitting on the patio steps, strawberry blonde curls tumbling down her back and a half-empty bottle of liquor sitting next to her.

Without even thinking, Stiles walked over to the door, pulling it open slowly and stepping onto the patio. She immediately turned to look at him, her green eyes bleary and bloodshot, faint tear tracks running down her cheeks. The cold November breeze made him shiver in his hoodie, but before he could stop himself, he took another step closer to Lydia.

“Are you okay?” he asked her gently, despite the fact that she was _clearly_ not okay.

“Stiles,” she slurred, eyes narrowing, and she raised one finger to point at him shakily. Jesus, she was really drunk. But he was a little taken aback that she knew his name— granted, they _had_ gone to school together since kindergarten, but with the different circles they ran in… it still took him by surprise. His heart thumped erratically at the sound of his name on her lips, and Stiles swallowed, trying to calm his racing pulse.

“You know my name?” he asked her, tentatively sitting down next to her on the steps. She raised an eyebrow at him, a look of disbelief on her face.

“You’re in Bio with me,” she supplied. “And you always get yelled at for talking to the guy next to you.”

That made sense, because Scott sat next to him in Bio.

Lydia shivered, running one hand over her arm, goosebumps indicating how cold she was. Stiles hesitated, thinking of slipping his sweatshirt off. He wanted to give it to her, but would that freak her out, or make her mad? She _was_ letting him sit next to her. Then again, she was _really_ drunk right now.

“Are you okay?” Stiles settled on, repeating his previous question. Lydia looked at him, her expression skeptical.

“Why do you care?” she asked, and it broke Stiles’s heart to realize she wasn’t used to people _caring_ about her wellbeing. She may have lots of pretty, popular friends, but Stiles was pretty sure none of them knew what Lydia was really like.

He almost huffed in laughter at himself, at the presumption that _he_ knew what Lydia was really like. He only had what he observed, what he picked up on when no one else was looking. Even so, he still felt like he knew more about this girl than any of the people she generally spent her time with cared to learn.

“I was worried about you,” Stiles responded, finally deciding to just go with the truth. Chances were she wouldn’t remember any of this anyways.

“Why?” she demanded, her green eyes focused solely on him.

“I… saw your fight with Jackson,” Stiles admitted, and at his words, Lydia’s shoulders sagged, her whole body curling in on itself, making her smaller. He saw the light sort of fade from her eyes, her expression glaze over, as she stared across Danny’s backyard, her lips in a thin line. The illuminated pool lapped silently in the chilly breeze, and the reflection from the turquoise water made her face look even paler.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop— I was in the kitchen,” Stiles quickly interjected, worrying now that she would assume he had been stalking her or something. His heart was still beating too fast; clearly he was still in shock from sitting this close to _Lydia freaking Martin._ Their knees were practically touching, and Stiles thought he might actually pass out if she got any closer.

“He does that all the time,” Lydia said, her voice low and her words a little slurred. “Looks at other girls when I’m with him.” She shook her head slightly, still staring at the pool. “I should just let it go.”

“No,” Stiles immediately responded. He wanted to continue— tell her how incredible she was, how she deserved better than Jackson, deserved someone who would care about her, think about her, treat her with respect— but he found his words stuck in his throat. Even though she was drunk, even though she probably wouldn’t remember any of this, he still couldn’t bring himself to admit his feelings to her. Partly because he was scared, but partly because that would make this about him. And Lydia didn’t deserve that.

“I should,” Lydia mused, sighing exaggeratedly, resting her chin in her hand, elbow propped on her knee. “It’s just so much easier when Jackson’s not mad. So much less tiring.”

Stiles swallowed, his heartbeat still frantic. He didn’t know what to say, so he just stayed quiet, letting her know he would listen if she wanted to talk.

“I’m just… so sick of feeling invisible,” she said, sighing. Her voice was small and lonely.  “Jackson never looks at me. My friends never care about me. Everyone knows who I am, but no one knows _me.”_

Stiles sat frozen, shocked by her words. It struck him how he still didn’t really know this girl. They’d gone to school together for years; he had been in love with her since the third freaking grade, had always listened and paid attention to her, but he didn’t really know this person beside him at all. He knew she was smart, and he assumed the people that she surrounded herself with were too selfish to be counted on, but it broke his heart to hear how _lonely_ she was. Lydia Martin, queen bee of school, felt like she had no one in the world.

Stiles wanted to fix that, somehow, but he didn’t have the slightest clue how.

Lydia shivered in the chilly night air again, and Stiles tugged off his hoodie this time. He didn’t know how to make Lydia feel not so alone, but he guessed that the least he could do was try to be here for her, in this moment.

“Here,” he said, offering her the sweatshirt. She just regarded him, eyes still glazed, before she hiccuped loudly, reminding Stiles exactly how intoxicated she was.

 _This isn’t anything special,_ his brain reminded him. _Don’t let this go to your head, or think this means she cares about you. She’s just drunk and upset and you’re available._

Regardless, Lydia took his sweatshirt hesitantly, wrapping herself in it. It swallowed her whole, and Stiles’s heart sped up even more, looking at the girl of his dreams wrapped in his hoodie.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles offered again, looking at Lydia. She looked so small, huddled up here on the steps. So _human._ It lowered the pedestal he had her up on, just the smallest bit, seeing her this vulnerable. “Jackson’s an ass.”

Lydia laughed drunkenly at that, her curls bobbing up and down as she nodded. “Yeah, he is,” she agreed. “But I probably deserve that.” She sighed again. “And I love him.”

Stiles had been about to cut in, about to tell her she _absolutely_ didn’t deserve that, but her last statement made him freeze. Like it or not, Lydia was with Jackson, and there was nothing he could do to change that, as much as he wished he could. And anyways, it wasn’t like Lydia was going to leave Jackson for _him._

Still, regardless of how he felt about her— Stiles just wished she could be happy.

“Thanks, Stiles,” she sighed, turning her head to look at him. Stiles gulped, meeting her gaze— even glazed over, her green eyes were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She gave him a little smile, warm and grateful, and his heart practically leapt out of his chest. “Thanks for listening.”

“Of course,” Stiles said, automatically. Anything he could possibly do to make Lydia feel better, to help her realize how absolutely _incredible_ she was, how much she deserved in this world— anything he could do, he would do it. And if that meant sitting next to her on Danny’s back steps in the chilly November air and comforting her while she was drunk… Stiles would happily do that every day, every minute, for the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> I put this in the tags on tumblr, so I feel it's only fair to add here-- Stiles totally drives Lydia home after this because Jackson is nowhere to be found, and she definitely keeps his sweatshirt. She sleeps in it that night because it's warm and cozy and smells nice and she's sad. After then, she doesn't know where it came from, because it's not Jackson's style at ALL and she doesn't remember that night, but it quickly becomes her comfort clothes for when she's feeling crappy. Stiles notices this when they get closer (see also: when he drags her out of bed every night to go monster hunting) between s5 and s6 and almost passes out. Lydia goes completely red when she finds out it's his and he tells her how he gave it to her that night, but she doesn't stop wearing it. Stiles not so secretly loves it.


End file.
